Fate's Tricks
by Semyr
Summary: AU. Arthur accidentally sees Merlin perform magic the day they first meet; what will it mean for their destiny? Future Merthur.
1. The Discovery

**Hi everyone!** I hope you'll enjoy this new story – thank you very much for taking the time to check it out. The first chapters are a bit short but I'll probably update very often: next chapter will be here in two days at the most.

I apologize sincerely if there are any grammatical mistakes :o please feel free to insult me copiously if you find one! :p

**Chapter One: The Discovery**

His first emotion hadn't been anger, it had been incredulity. Never before had he been thus insulted, and by what was clearly a commoner, no less! A deep satisfaction had then made itself known as he savoured in advance the idea of the boy's face crumbling in mortification as he learnt who he had slighted – only to be promoted from a mere ass to a royal one. A deep smouldering rage engulfed him anew as he mentally replayed the scene and Arthur's fists clenched in his blankets, sending a shot of pain towards his shoulder. Although he had kept his cool then, perfectly acquainted with what maintaining his reputation and image entailed, it had actually been a long time since he had felt such rage.

In truth, being so angry about the incident was nothing short of ridiculous. He had taken his revenge – surely the boy would have been taught his place by a night in the cells and a few hours in the stocks. And yet, there was just something about the blue eyes that had gazed disapprovingly upon him that made him want to scream and hit the nearest wall. This explained why he was currently lying on his bed instead of doing something productive, although it wasn't even dark out yet. With an annoyed sigh, he brutally pulled himself forwards, hissing under his breath when the movement put weight on the shoulder he had strained when his mace has inexplicably wrapped itself around a sword in the fight earlier.

Arthur was no stranger to pain, and certainly no wuss, but a walk to Gaius' chambers to ask for a potion suddenly seemed like the perfect solution to alleviate his restlessness and he immediately set off at a brisk pace. Once there, and in spite of his earlier haste, he hesitated in front of the door as he contemplated whether or not such a minor injury was worth disturbing the court physician over. Finally deciding that he didn't want to have crossed half the castle for naught, he raised his hand to knock; but as his knuckles approached the wood, he heard two raised voices.

Immediately curious – not much could make Gaius depart of his phlegm – he opened the door, cautious not to make any sound. Immediately, his eyes widened. The boy that had been plaguing his thoughts for the last hour stood there, his eyes golden, his hand extended: a bucket of water was floating in mid-air in front of him, each drop of water apparently suspended in time. _A sorcerer! _His mind screamed, made almost hysterical by years of his father's teaching, the boy was a_ sorcerer, _and doing magic in the very castle!

Stumbling backwards, he let the door shut softly, barely hearing Gaius' harsh whisper of how the boy had to be extremely careful with his gift. Had he eavesdropped on the conversation the tiniest bit longer, he would have heard the old man explain that the boy had quite an extraordinary skill, but that he had to be very careful not to let anyone know, except if he wanted to be executed at dawn. Perhaps those words would have made Arthur pause – perhaps he would have considered what it would actually _mean_ for the young man's secret to be revealed, perhaps picturing the warlock on the execution stage or tied to the stakes would have made him hesitate.

But the golden-haired man didn't ever hear the advice given to Merlin; he was already on his way to his father's quarters.


	2. To Tell or not to Tell

Hi everyone!

I was really unsure of the response my very short prologue would provoke, but you've all been absolutely awesome. I'd like to thank everyone who put this on story alert and especially **laughsalot12**, **Guitargirl214** and **NykSkyBlue** (I couldn't answer you, I'm sorry, but I'm delighted you thought this interesting!) for their lovely reviews.

So I'm posting this a day early, and considering how short it is next chapter will be up tomorrow too, and then they'll start getting longer :D I'm also particularly nervous about this one since it's the major turning point – I wonder if my thoughts on this will seem credible to you!

Thanks again a thousand times to anyone reading, it means more than I can say :)

* * *

><p><strong>Previously:<strong>

_Perhaps those words would have made Arthur pause – perhaps he would have considered what it would actually _mean_ for the young man's secret to be revealed, perhaps the image of the warlock on the execution stage would have made him hesitate. _

_But the golden-haired man didn't ever hear the advice given to Merlin; he was already on his way to his father's quarters._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: To Tell or not to Tell<strong>

As he almost ran through the corridors, Arthur's mind was in turmoil. Replaying what had happened, he now understood several things that had puzzled him earlier. Merlin's confidence about being able to beat him in spite of the differences in their builds and sword skills, the way items had seemed to move by themselves as they fought in the barn, even his own words…"_There's just something about you, Merlin"_ indeed!

And the boy had cheated during their fight! Arthur felt vindicated as his recent discovery confirmed that he was never as clumsy as the way he had been in the barn, and he hurried his pace a little, eager to let his father know about the boy.

"Father, there's something I have to talk to you about." He said importantly once he had been admitted to Uther's private chambers. The king slowly turned his head to peer at him, his eyes hard and cold.

"Oh? Could this possibly be about why a group of villagers was attacked in the forest while you were gallivanting around and playing with commoners yesterday afternoon?"

The reprimand stung on several levels, and moreover seemed quite unfair – in spite of the knights' best efforts, it could hardly be expected of them to chase all the bandits out of Camelot, and there had been no particular activity reported in the last week, which meant they had no reason to be patrolling. Arthur could only conclude that his father was angry for whatever reason and that he was taking it out on the nearest victim – in this case, as it was often the case actually, his son.

Well, surely being able to eradicate another warlock from their castle would improve his mood, he hoped – and yet, as Arthur opened his mouth to report the boy, a thought stopped him. Right now, he was going to accuse of wizardry someone that for all intents and purposes had become the trusted court physician's apprentice, without any proof to support his claim. What's more, just about everyone in the castle already knew that he and the boy had quarrelled. The King was clearly angry with him about his afternoon fight; would he even believe that his accusation was anything other that a show of juvenile spite towards the boy that had insulted him?

The depth of Uther's hate for all things magical was almost impossible to grasp: had Arthur understood even half of it, he would have known that no other proof than his word was required for his father to throw the boy in the dungeons, no matter the circumstances; but because he couldn't help but underestimate his father's feelings, he doubted the impact his words would have. An idea then made itself known; if he could catch Merlin in the middle of the nefarious plan that the boy, being magical, would undoubtedly begin to hatch soon, he would be acclaimed as a hero, and his father would surely be proud. He wouldn't have considered it if he had thought Camelot to be in any danger because of the warlock, but his opinion of the young man was already so low that the possibility didn't even enter his mind.

And thus, Arthur emitted a hasty apology and a promise to do better before leaving his slightly confused father's quarters, fully determined to intervene at the first sight of the boy's evil magic – not knowing that the first time he would see him in action would be both very soon and quite surprising in nature. And as he fell asleep, the faint satisfied smile on his lips had for once nothing to do with the beautiful green-eyed lady living in the small tower nearby.


	3. The Feast

**Hello everyone!**

Once again I'm totally blown away to the response to the last chapter, so here's a new one. Chapter 4 should be here in 2 days and will be longer :)

Thank you so much to everyone who's reading this or put this on story alert, and especially to **laughsalot12**, **NykSkyBlue**, **sesshouluver**, **Beizanten** and an **anonymous reviewer** for taking the time to review, it means a lot! :)

* * *

><p><strong>Previously<strong>_**:**_

_And thus, Arthur emitted a hasty apology and a promise to do better before leaving his slightly confused father's quarters, fully determined to intervene at the first sight of the boy's evil magic – not knowing that the first time he would see him in action would be both very soon and quite surprising in nature._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: The Feast<strong>

The prince of Camelot was currently in a bit of a quandary. With his title came important duties; between patrols, learning from his father the way one negotiated peace while preparing for war and the occasional huge beast that for some reason or another always seemed attracted to Camelot's woods, he certainly didn't have the time to stalk a mere commoner, no matter how dangerous he could prove to be. Furthermore, even if he had had the time, he would have been hard-pressed to explain his presence near the boy he had taken an immediate dislike to. As a result, he wasn't able to even see the insolent warlock again before the feast prepared in Lady Helen's honour.

* * *

><p>Morgana had decided early on, after about half the men present had thrown her blushing glances, that her dress had amply fulfilled its purpose, and was now on to her next favourite habit – annoying Arthur. She looked around for him and smiled inwardly as a glance around only confirmed that more than half the eyes of the various noblemen present were fixed on her, but frowned when she finally caught a glimpse of him, seeing as he wasn't looking at her at all, not even stealing more or less surreptitious glances from time to time. Instead he seemed to be glaring at the servant's part of the room…right at Gwen, actually! Immediately feeling protective, she wondered what her maid could have done to displease the Prince when she was generally acknowledged as one of the gentlest souls in the castle, but then realized that Arthur wasn't glaring at Gwen, but at the boy near her. Unknowing to her a malicious smile curved her lips as she recognized in him the young man who had had a much-advertised fight with the Prince a few days before the feast. <em>Interesting…<em>

Gliding through the room to stand near the blond Prince, she put her mouth very near his ear and whispered a few words to him, making him shiver and visibly startle in a reaction to the puffs of air her breath formed against his skin.

"So…what's so fascinating about him anyway?"

"Morgana! You've got to stop doing this!" She could almost follow the thoughts in Arthur's brain as he actually registered what she had just said. "He's certainly not _fascinating. _He…I was just wondering how he came to be allowed in the room for the feast. Last I've heard, we didn't allow peasants in here."

Morgana let one of her most knowing smiles slip, knowing those annoyed Arthur incommensurably, and surely enough his jaw clenched the slightest bit as he took in her expression. She decided to leave, as this was enough fun for tonight, but not without having the last word.

"The physician's assistant, a peasant? Aren't we bitter to have been almost beaten by a mere commoner without the most basic training in weaponry? But anyway, I think you're wrong, Arthur. I believe this boy is more than he seems, and I'm quite sure we haven't seen the last of him."

Morgana had always had a good intuition, but she didn't know herself just how right she was going to be proven a mere hour later.

* * *

><p>As he tiredly sat on his bed much later that night, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, Arthur's mind was still filled with confusion and made cloudy by the remnants of the old witch's spell. He only wished to sleep, and yet a thought kept intruding, unwanted visitor there to torment him. Merlin, the <em>warlock<em>, had saved him. Saved. His. Life.

And had been made royal manservant to reward him for his actions. The thought never failed to get a groan out of him.

Sighing as he laid down, regretfully admitting to himself that he wasn't going to be able to sleep before he had analyzed what had happened, he closed his eyes and let himself remember.

When he had first opened his eyes, he hadn't understood much. Lady Helen had apparently been struck by a randomly falling candlestick, he was on the ground with the young sorcerer near him, and a dagger was embedded in his throne.

Immediately distrustful, he had suspected Merlin to have made the guests fall asleep, made the chandelier fall on Lady Helen and pretended to save the Prince so he could get himself in Arthur's good books, discarding in the process for a short while all of his previous beliefs about the boy's lack of power. However he had to admit this wasn't quite logical, and when "Lady Helen" had changed features and become the old witch whose son had been recently executed, it became obvious this option was out.

Well, even if the sorcerer wasn't the source of the danger, his aim could have been the same; he could have been trying to curry favour in the royal household. And he had certainly managed that, hadn't he? He had even been made the Prince's manservant! Arthur was stubbornly clinging to his interpretation, which had the advantage of allowing him to reconcile all he knew about magic and what Merlin had actually done tonight.

Nonetheless, even as he firmly repeated his theory to himself, he couldn't help but feel tiny seeds of doubt insinuating themselves in his mind. It was certainly difficult to comprehend that the warlock would have tried to get close to him in order to kill him when he could have let the witch do it – as much as the Prince hated to admit it, he had been pretty much helpless when the dagger had embedded itself in what could have been his head.

But there again, finding a justification to the boy's actions that fit in his beliefs was only too easy; the sorcerer had probably just wanted to be the one claiming the kill, for the honour of it: the very thought made him angry, as he was more used to be the hunter than the hunted.

_Just_ _bring it on, _he thought rebelliously, _try and do something, anything; I will expose you as the monster you are, have you thrown in the dungeons and be recognized as a hero by my father. And meanwhile…_There he smiled. Meanwhile, he would enjoy being served by the boy.


	4. The Tournament

**Hello everyone! **Once again I'd like to thank most sincerely anyone reading this and especially **NykSkyBlue**, **Storylover158**, **laughsalot12**, **sesshouluver** and **Beizanten** for their very kind words of encouragement! I love you guys!

* * *

><p><strong>Previou<strong>**sly**

_Just bring it on, he thought rebelliously, try and do something, anything; I will expose you as the monster you are, have you thrown in the dungeons and be recognized as a hero. And meanwhile…There he smiled. Meanwhile, he would enjoy being served by the boy._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Tournament<strong>

He took it back – there was certainly nothing enjoyable in being served by a half-witted incompetent. Merlin had been his manservant for exactly three days and already he had managed to be late seven times (and even to make _Arthur_ late once, for a meeting with his father no less), the quick mind of a stable boy was the only reason his favourite mare hadn't escaped from the stables where Merlin had let her with her door slightly open "so she wouldn't feel so uncomfortable" and Arthur had troubles remembering it was actually possible, and even expected, to eat food in the middle of the day that was more than half-heartedly tepid.

Had the situation been any different, he'd have insisted long ago on getting the boy another reward for saving his life and hiring an actual servant, rather than this pathetic excuse for one; as it was, Arthur had already had to restrain himself from doing precisely this several times, in spite of the fact he should have considered the circumstances allowing him to monitor the boy closely as a godsend rather than the curse they felt like.

He really wasn't looking forward to being "assisted" by Merlin on the tournament tomorrow…

* * *

><p>The sorcerer – and how strange it was to think of the dullard this way, but Arthur supposed it was the whole point, magic wasn't supposed to be obvious, it was nothing but trickeries and cowardice – was indeed as inefficient in this as in anything else, and Arthur winced as Merlin tried to readjust his armour, pinching his skin between two slates of metal for the third time since the beginning of the fiasco. Was he doing this on purpose? Made furious by the thought, he pushed the boy away and violently told him off, ordering him to go and ask for anyone else to come and replace him, assuring him the first come kitchen boy would manage better than him – savagely glad when the insolent flinched a little at the unexpected ferocity of his words.<p>

Facing his first opponent with a scowl on his features, he had no trouble at all getting in the proper mindset to start thrusting his sword out with killer intent; it made for an easy victory. The boy was of some use in this then, at the very least.

* * *

><p>The next day he half-expected Merlin not to show up or at least to scamper off when came the time to be buckled in his armour, but the boy surprised him both times. The fitting actually went rather smoothly, and Arthur was immediately suspicious, keeping his eyes set on the boy's whenever he could to check for the slightest hint of golden. The only thing his scrutiny revealed, however, was a furious concentration that might have been considered…<em>endearing<em> by someone who didn't know what he knew. Annoyed by his own thoughts, Arthur brusquely addressed his manservant:

"Who taught you this?"

Merlin had the cheek to raise his eyebrows at him, and Arthur had the inane thought that he'd perhaps have rather enjoyed the boy's confident attitude if he hadn't known it was born from possessing magic. It was certainly different than the usual subservient obedience he got from most servants.

"Gwen showed me yesterday." At Arthur's incredulous look, Merlin developed a bit more. "Morgana's maid?"

"I know who she is. Doesn't explain why a _girl_ had to show you how it's done."

"Well she was the only person I felt I could ask, apart from Gaius who said he hadn't the faintest idea. Got very lucky though, she turned out to be the blacksmith's daughter – at first I thought all girls knew how to do this kind of stuff in Camelot."

The daughter of the blacksmith, right, he remembered now. Arthur concentrated on his relief at hearing Guinevere hadn't been taught how to attach an armour perfectly by a Morgana intent on continuing her sword training far beyond what was expected of a King's Ward, firmly ignoring the voice telling him _he_ was actually the one supposed to show Merlin how it was done, or the slight uncomfortable feeling hearing the boy had had no one else to turn to had provoked in him – it was only normal, after all. Perhaps there was something intangible in his magic that made people regard him with unconscious suspicion. _Arthur_ had certainly felt instinctual aversion for him.

* * *

><p>The tournament had gone well, but then things had taken a turn for the worse, of at least for the decidedly bizarre. He had won, of course, unwillingly smiling – no, smirking – when he heard Merlin's distinctive voice cheering as he daringly felled his opponent. Sir Oswald had won as well, and so had two strangers to Camelot, an enigmatic warrior carrying two curved swords of the likes Arthur had never seen before and the much-talked about Knight Valiant.<p>

And therein lied the problem. Because a few hours after the end of the day's fights, his warlock of a manservant had burst into his room, holding a strange snake's head in his hand and claiming Sir Owain had been _poisoned_ in his fight against Valiant, yet starting to stutter as soon as Arthur asked him just how he had acquired this startling trophy.

Arthur had rebuked him, of course. He didn't know what the sorcerer had in mind, but this was obviously part of the nefarious plan Arthur had been waiting for. He considered going to the King immediately with the snake's head Merlin had left him with, but he still wasn't sure of what exactly had transpired. Had Merlin awoken the snakes on Valiant's shield? If so, why would he do so against Owain? Was he looking to accuse one knight and to kill another? Had the men done anything the boy's mind, twisted with magic, would consider a reason to attack them?

He resolved to put all of this out of his mind for the time being and to simply be on his guard the next day, but still went to bed troubled, the picture of his manservant's eyes as he begged Arthur to _just trust_ _him_ flashing intermittently in his mind.

* * *

><p>For a little while, Arthur felt absolutely triumphant. He had seen everything, seen the boy's eyes as they flashed golden just before the snakes awoke on his opponent's shield, seen Valiant's genuine look of surprise, an unnecessary confirmation that the knight had nothing to do with this. He had cut off the snakes' heads with the sword Morgana had thrown at him and already started to prepare his speech on how he had unmasked Merlin's treachery.<p>

And _then_ he had turned to face Valiant and the knight had raised his sword once more, shattering all his certitudes in a few rapid words. Clearly ready to fight, he had nonetheless tried to bribe Arthur and Uther to let him survive, offering to let them know where the small community of sorcerers he had bought the shield to could be found.

Everything went by too quickly afterwards; Sir Owain awoke, apparently cured by the antidote Gaius had managed to brew using the venom of the head his apprentice had severed, and readily testified about Valiant ordering one of the snakes to strike him. Naively hoping to escape with his life intact, Valiant confessed to everything, though he insisted he couldn't explain why the snakes had come alive so early against Arthur.

Merlin was in the court room, on the far right as was proper, in Arthur's direct line of sight – but he wouldn't meet Arthur's eyes.

Arthur regained his chambers as soon as he could, relieved to hear the banquet thrown in his honour would be delayed to the morrow, because _he_ knew perfectly well why the snakes had come alive when they had. And perhaps it made him squirm just the tiniest bit to think about what-might-have-beens – if he had listened to Merlin, if they had accused Valiant of sorcery together, if they had waited for Owain to wake so he could corroborate their story…

Those thoughts were nonsense. For all he knew the boy had planned everything, trying to ingratiate himself further with Arthur. He should be glad he had managed to foil the sorcerer's plans so completely – after all, no one knew Merlin had done anything to help him, and no one ever would; Merlin couldn't claim he had had a part in this without being condemned to death for it.

As he thought, he decided to forgo his evening meal and prepared for bed alone, even half-heartedly folding his dirty clothes before putting them on a chair rather than dropping them in a corner like he usually did. Merlin hadn't come by, and Arthur couldn't even pretend he was relieved.

* * *

><p>To Arthur's surprise, Merlin still hadn't quit; he was there the next morning, not even late, unusually silent. Arthur kept even his mildest remarks for himself because the boy still wouldn't look at him in the face, but the abnormal tension between them soon became intolerable, and he found himself reacting to it the only way he knew how: aggressively.<p>

"We're going to practice sword-fighting. Go and find our equipment."

Merlin visibly gulped, and yes, alright, maybe he had been _slightly_ too harsh the last time he had trained with him. Certainly the sheer number of blows his manservant's head had received would have kept it ringing for the rest of the day. He resolved to at least pretend to teach him the basics this time; after all, what he had then told Merlin was true, most servants crumpled after the first blow, so perhaps he wasn't totally useless with a sword after all.

Never mind that; Merlin couldn'twield a sword to save his life. Which he actually didn't need to do, considering he had his magic to fall back on. For the first time, Arthur felt more curiosity than disgust at this thought; what exactly could his apparently-helpless adversary do to him? How had he learnt magic? More importantly, _why_?

He was brutally shaken out of his thoughts by a third sword clashing with his own. He automatically stepped back and assumed a defensive position, surprised and yet not to find Sir Kay smiling at him.

"Just trying to make sure the fight was slightly more equitable, my lord!" The knight exclaimed with his customary good humour and lightness of spirit. Merlin let a small laugh of surprise escape as Arthur silently regrouped and started fighting against both men instead of protesting, and the Prince had to firmly repress a smile of his own even as he parried a daring blow from the knight fighting him.

In the end, Arthur acknowledged, it had been a good exercise all-around. Merlin's stance still looked pretty pathetic, but fighting alongside Kay, with the knight always ready to let him find his equilibrium again or to block a blow meant for him, had allowed him to try hitting without the hesitation that was most beginners' curse when training against someone with a higher level. Kay was learning to fight while protecting someone weaker than he was, an essential skill for any knight, and Arthur was facing two adversaries, one highly-skilled and the other highly-unpredictable.

He also acknowledged that the exercise had served its original purpose: the air between his manservant and him, as they both breathlessly took off their hauberks and let their eyes meet for the first time in two days, was definitively clearer.

What he refused to admit was that it also was the most fun he'd had in ages.

* * *

><p>Life after that was almost simple; Merlin remained pretty incompetent, but he also was always good for a laugh. It still boggled his mind to think he was actually being served by a sorcerer, so he tried not to think too much about it, and it was in fact remarkably easy; Merlin hadn't done anything suspicious since the tournament and Arthur had been tempted more than once to convince himself he had imagined the whole thing.<p>

It lasted about a week.

Then the plague came to Camelot.


End file.
